I've had some true crazy in my head lately, as you guys know. It's not really getting any better, but I have made a couple decisions. I'm almost afraid to put them out there for you all to see, but here it is.
I withdrew from my class. I had only registered for one, and it was a stupid one. American Pop Culture from 1900 to 1940. I know, critical, right? But the
But I don't know what the hell I want to do. And looking at the class schedule was FREAKING me out. The one class I was considering would have brought me out to campus twice a week, for 2 1/2 hours per day. It takes me an hour to drive to the campus. I need to squeeze any classes into my family's schedule, which believe me--does NOT always work well with the University's time frame. There are no classes at the University that I can take that are on-line. I was really hoping I could do some of it that way, but I cannot. So this is not impossible, but very very difficult. I could probably take one to two classes per semester, and at that rate graduate in about six years. Six. Years. Of constantly driving back and forth. And of being less available to be involved with the kids' school stuff, like volunteering and field trips, things which I have always done and are important to my kids. Six years of homework. Six years of exams.
All of this still does not make it impossible. Just difficult. Here's what caused me to make the final decision to withdraw: I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I WANT TO DO. After meeting with my advisor, hours and hours of thought, obsessing on the website over classes, I STILL could not come up with a degree that I thought I really wanted to pursue or that would make it so that I could do something I really wanted to do and could not do without it. Six years, for that.
Not worth it to me. At least right now.
If I have some sort of epiphany and figure out that I desperately want to be a (insert profession here--I seriously can't even think of an example to use right now), then I will consider going back then. And maybe by then the kids will be grown and moved out and I will feel like taking my wrinkly ass back to school full-time.
But right now, I mostly do know what I want to be: a mom and a wife. And looking back on my 8-, 12-, 16-, even 22-year old self, that is all I've ever really wanted to be. And as luck would have it, and by the Grace of God, that is exactly what I am.
Don't get me wrong: I am still in the throws of an intense mid-life crisis. I still feel like I need to do something to feel like I am more of a contributor to this life on earth. A job? Maybe. A hobby? Definitely. Every day lately I spend more time than I care to admit mentally berating myself for something. I'm not good enough. I'm lazy. I'm talentless. I fail at everything. I don't know what I'm doing. I should be earning money. I should be a better cook. I should lose weight. I should keep a cleaner house. I should see my friends more. I should finish a project. Why can't I get anything done? I'm worthless.
Now don't go call an intervention on me. That sounds really bad, I know. Like I-should-seek-medication bad. But at least I'm aware of it, and I know it's not all real. Sometimes I am aware of some truths in me: I am a good mom and a pretty good wife. My kids are happy and fulfilled. My husband loves me. We always have clean clothes and food in the house. I get the bills paid. I can be entertaining. I'm relatively smart. I know I'm a pretty decent person, and that all that negativity is not rational. I am trying to battle it. Trying to replace it. It's really difficult. But hopefully when my hormones level off I'll find it a bit easier.
But for now, there is my admission. I will not be going back to school. Yet. My sister still is, and I wish her all the best in the world. She always has been braver than me.
I will, however, be learning to drive a motorcycle and get my license for it. And maybe I should get a tattoo and start wearing a leather vest and some black eyeliner. I don't know what is next for me. Right now I just know that I have to fix breakfast for two 9-year olds, a 10-year old, and the hubby. And that my sister is moving home this weekend. I know that the grass needs to be mowed, and that is my job. I'm very good at it. I know I have ironing to do, which I love, and I know my hubby has the day off tomorrow, and we're going to do something fun with it. I know I have to go to Costco. And that today is going to be a very good day.